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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22400854">ERROR 429</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/soultyghost/pseuds/soultyghost'>soultyghost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Android AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Android AU, F/M, Misunderstandings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:33:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22400854</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/soultyghost/pseuds/soultyghost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Annette is an android and Felix is a human who's stuck with her</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Android AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Those Who Drabble in the Dark</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ERROR 429</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>21:38</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8 has never wished it could force itself to shut down until the very moment it trips over absolutely nothing. As N8 automatically starts calculating the trajectory of the tray of drinks flying out of its clumsy hands, it notices the unerased data from its previous calculation. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>21:06</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Running around before you’ve even introduced yourself to your new master is a ridiculous idea,” Father says with a stern look. “Only domestic automata serve guests. You have a more important duty, N8.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8 bent its head and stares at its hands. It twiddles its fingers just like it practiced. “I only wanted to be helpful to House Fraldarius.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come now, Gustave.” N8 raises its head in confusion when VP Fraldarius lightly pinches its cheeks. “Little N8 is a state of the art automaton. A simple thing like this, what are the chances of failure?”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>21:38</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>97.86%. The probability of N8, a state of the art automaton, failing a simple task such as serving drinks is 97.86%.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8 regretted its selfishness. If it was truly thinking of House Fraldarius, it would have obediently waited by Father's side until its master turns up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But when N8 introduced itself to House Fraldarius' automata 41 minutes ago, it had learned that House Fraldarius demands perfection. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every automaton is programmed to perform their duties perfectly, leaving any and all errors their human owners' or programmers' responsibility. To most automata, perfection is a given. Reminders were purely perfunctory, a normal part of the introduction when one joins a team. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To Model HM1163-N8, perfection is an abstract goal with very real consequences for not meeting it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8 belongs in House Fraldarius. It has to, even if it meant there's a 97.86% chance of failure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>10 times, 100 times, 1000 times… N8 will keep trying as long as there's a 0.001% chance of success. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For now, there's nothing N8 can do except prepare an apology as a group of guests draped in jewels and finery are showered with sweetened alcohol. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The yelling and shrieking finally peter out to snide comments and low grumbling. N8 opens its mouth to apologize but a firm hand on its shoulder stops it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bowing slightly, VP Fraldarius says, “Honored guests, do forgive my servant. You are welcome to borrow any of my home’s amenities to freshen up. My servants would be happy to lead you to your destination.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as he finishes speaking, a group of domestic automata silently appears. Without having to be directed, some immediately start to clean up the shattered glass and spilled alcohol while others assign themselves to one guest each, bowing at their waist and offering their hands with a perfectly subservient expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8 is overcome by awe as the initial outrage and disgust on the guests' faces are now replaced by smiles and understanding chuckles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How do they do that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> N8 wonders. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why can’t I do the same?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sharp voice cuts through the cheerful atmosphere and N8’s thoughts. “How foolish.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice belongs to a young man leaning against the ballroom door's frame, half of his body in the room and half out. He resembles VP Fraldarius greatly, except for his #FF7E00 eyes, blade-like nose, and unpleasant glower. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not now, Felix,” VP Fraldarius says with a wave of a hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix Fraldarius. N8's master. N8's partner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8 studies the sharp scowl, the ridiculously messy way his hair is tied up in a pathetic attempt at a ponytail, the wrinkled casual clothes that looked as though he slept in them and couldn't be bothered changing for a formal party…. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He's different from Father's data and Dimitri's funny anecdotes. He's…he's… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He's a thug!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room full of people collectively sucks in a breath as Felix pushes himself off the marble pillar. VIPs shuffle awkwardly to make way for him as he saunters over towards VP Fraldarius, as though they're afraid to be spat on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You put on a good show, Father," he says as he claps his hands slowly, the amount of contempt in dripping from his tone the very definition of the word 'scathing'. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8 is learning more about human behavior in a span of 28 seconds than in the 6 weeks and 3 days since it first gained sentience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're accusing me of," VP Fraldarius says in a mildly interested but otherwise dismissive tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What else is this 'party' for if not to showcase your new toy? Or perhaps it'd be more accurate to say that you're demonstrating the results of your guests' support in automata development?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This is neither the time nor place, Felix."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix ignores his warning look and continues. <em>"Look how advanced they've become. They can cook, clean, and make mistakes just like we do!" </em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8’s vision is suddenly blocked by a large pop-up that warns N8 to regulate its emotions immediately. N8 ignores it, not because it was being stubborn and wanted to start throwing hands at Felix, but because VP Fraldarius’s next words almost cause it to short circuit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Will you be satisfied if I punish it? Or perhaps...since we have enough servants in the manor, should I simply throw it away?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please don’t!” N8 blurts out, panic and desperation distorting its voice until it sounds extremely synthesized. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8’s eyes flit from VP Fraldarius to Felix to Dimitri to the sea of humans in the ballroom before finally settling onto Father's disappointed gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, I’ll do better. I promise!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please don’t throw me away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>00:52</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8 meets Felix at the foyer of Fraldarius Manor with a heavy hooded coat in its embrace.  </span>
  <span>Felix grabs it from N8's arms with more ease than N8 did back in the coatroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he says as he puts on the coat, tone clipped and cold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8 can’t tell if Felix is angry or if there’s something it’s not doing right. “Do you need anything else before we leave, Master? You’ve already got your...” it says, trailing off as his face got darker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Felix.’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix stays silent so N8 turns its head around in case someone who shared his name was standing behind it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My name,” he explains. N8 turns around again and to its growing confusion, finds him scratching his head and mussing his hair even more. “Don’t ever call me anything else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, understood, Felix.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Do you mean my model number?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, whatever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N8?” it says, unsure if it would’ve been more appropriate to give him its full designation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Annette?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” N8 blurts out, more as a request for him to repeat himself than an acknowledgment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix clicks his tongue and turns away, but not before N8 catches him mutter, “That’s a nice name.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>N8 tells itself that according to its pre-installed data on human speech, Felix just gave it a compliment. No one gives compliments when they’re angry. Feeling bold, N8 grabs his coat sleeve so he’d look N8's way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Felix, thank you,” N8 says sincerely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Felix says, catching N8 off-guard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>Why? There’s a growing list of things I'm grateful for but where should I start?</em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When N8 says as much, Felix deepens his frown. </span>
  <span>“Don’t waste my time,” he says dismissively, walking away and out of the front door before N8 could even apologize.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of the heavy front door slamming shut rings in N8’s ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What just happened?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Have I been abandoned?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Should I chase after him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Should I go back to Father instead and ask what I did wrong this time?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unexpectedly, the door opens again and Felix’s head pops into view. His expression still looks sour but it’s not as bad as the first time N8 saw him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you waiting for, Annette? We’re going home.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p> </p>
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